Forever Thrown
Forever Bluegrass #16
Kathleen Brooks
All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, actual events, locales, or organizations is entirely coincidental.
An original work of Kathleen Brooks. Forever Thrown copyright @ 2021 by Kathleen Brooks.
Kathleen Brooks® and Forever Bluegrass Series® are registered Trademarks of Laurens Publishing, LLC.
Created with Vellum
Bluegrass Series
Bluegrass State of Mind
Risky Shot
Dead Heat
Bluegrass Brothers
Bluegrass Undercover
Rising Storm
Secret Santa: A Bluegrass Series Novella
Acquiring Trouble
Relentless Pursuit
Secrets Collide
Final Vow
Bluegrass Singles
All Hung Up
Bluegrass Dawn
The Perfect Gift
The Keeneston Roses
Forever Bluegrass Series
Forever Entangled
Forever Hidden
Forever Betrayed
Forever Driven
Forever Secret
Forever Surprised
Forever Concealed
Forever Devoted
Forever Hunted
Forever Guarded
Forever Notorious
Forever Ventured
Forever Freed
Forever Saved
Forever Bold
Forever Thrown
Forever Lies (coming Jan/Feb 2021)
Shadows Landing Series
Saving Shadows
Sunken Shadows
Lasting Shadows
Fierce Shadows
Broken Shadows
Framed Shadows
Endless Shadows (coming Oct 2021)
Women of Power Series
Chosen for Power
Built for Power
Fashioned for Power
Destined for Power
Web of Lies Series
Whispered Lies
Rogue Lies
Shattered Lies
Moonshine Hollow Series
Moonshine & Murder
Moonshine & Malice
Moonshine & Mayhem
Moonshine & Mischief
Moonshine & Menace (coming Nov 2021)
Moonshine & Masquerades (coming Dec 2021)
Contents
Family Trees for Keeneston
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Epilogue
Also by Kathleen Brooks
About the Author
Family Trees for Keeneston
Davies Family Tree
Keeneston Friends Family Trees
Extended Family Tree for Keeneston and Shadows Landing
1
The cheering of the crowd faded as Porter Davies slapped his cowboy hat against his chaps exactly three times before putting it on his head. A protective vest covered his flannel shirt as he got ready to enter the chute for the Saddle Bronc ride that would determine if he would be the next world champion. He’d drawn the top horse and it was going to be a hard eight seconds. This championship wasn’t going to come easy.
“Next up, from Keeneston, Kentucky, Porter Davies!” the announcer shouted into the arena. “With this ride he can become this year’s Saddle Bronc World Champion. Davies is two for four rides on Sinister and this championship won’t be easy to win. Davies has been leading the bronc standings all year, but he’s come out of left field to surprise everyone with the chance to win both the Saddle Bronc and the Bull Riding Championships.”
Porter took three slow, deep breaths. The arena faded away. The sounds of the announcer and crowd faded away. His family, who’d all flown out to see him do something few had done—win two world championships the same year—faded. All Porter heard as he entered the chute was his own breathing. Unconsciously, his head began to bob with the pace he knew Sinister would set once he started bucking.
Porter climbed down onto Sinister and felt the 1400 pound horse’s muscles bunch beneath him. The gate man, the pickup riders, and even the chute itself seemed to disappear until all that was left was Porter and Sinister.
The gate opened and Sinister leapt from the chute. He bucked, and Porter, with one hand gripping the bronc rein and the other in the air, leaned back until he was almost horizontal on Sinister’s back. Rolling his hips, kicking his legs up above Sinister’s shoulders in a move called spurring, and moving his arm in the air, Porter kept in balance. Sinister bucked up and down, kicking out his back legs as he leapt in moves that could easily cause whiplash.
Scoring wasn’t just about staying in the saddle. It was all technique. If Porter’s free hand touched Sinister at all, he’d be disqualified. So instead, Porter kept it up high, even when he felt as if he were going to be flung forward over Sinister’s head. The points were made by being in sync with the horse, making it look like a smooth ride when in reality it was the exact opposite. That’s where Porter excelled, though. His command of the horse, his ability to feel the slightest shift so he could anticipate the next buck, and the way he synced his own breathing to Sinister’s were what made him a champion.
The horn sounded and Porter grinned. He knew he’d had the ride of his life. Sinister bucked and Porter leapt off. Porter landed with a drop and roll that his military uncles and cousins would be proud of and sprang up onto his feet. He’d lost his cowboy hat during the ride and jogged over to it as the crowd cheered. He gave a celebratory wave to the masses.
The adrenaline pumping through his body from the ride and from the roar of the crowd made it hard to hear the scores as they came in. The roar of the crowd told him what he wanted to know: he was now the Saddle Bronc World Champion.
“I am so proud of you!” Gemma Davies, his mother, cried out as she flung her arms around him.
His father, Cy, was slapping him on the shoulder as his twin brother, Parker, slapped his other shoulder.
“Hell of a ride, bro,” Parker said with a huge smile on his face. “Makes me miss it.”
The two Davies boys had ridden rodeo together since they were teens. They’d paid their way through college on the back of a horse as they worked their way up to being professionals. Then, a couple of years ago, they started their own stock farm where they specialized in all kinds of rodeo horses—from broncos to barrel racers to ropers. But then Parker bowed out of the rodeo and became a U.S. marshal. He helped with the farm some, but it was really Porter’s dre
am. With the money Porter earned this year on the pro circuit and the money brought in from sponsors his Aunt Morgan had set up for him, he had enough money to buy out Parker and run the farm on his own.
“How are you feeling? Any headaches, blurred vision?” his cousin, Dr. Jace Davies, asked.
“I just had the ride of my life and you’re doing a med eval on me?” Porter teased his cousin.
“I cheered and didn’t say anything when it looked like that horse was going to snap your neck. Now amuse me,” Jace said, pulling a penlight from his jeans and flashing it in Porter’s eyes. “Normal. Good.”
“I’m fine,” Porter said with a laugh.
“When’s the bull riding?” his sister Reagan asked. His older twin sisters, Reagan and Riley, had left their children with their friends, DeAndre and Aniyah, for the weekend so they and their husbands could come to Vegas to cheer him on.
“I ride in about an hour. I need to hydrate.” Jace’s wife, Stella, handed him a sports drink and a power bar as if on cue.
Carter Ashton, Reagan’s husband, shook Porter’s hand. “What a ride!”
“Want to give up the thoroughbreds and give rodeo a try?” Porter asked with a grin.
“No way,” Carter laughed.
“I’m so proud of you. My little brother is a world champion!” Riley squealed, hugging him as her husband, Matt, slapped him on the back.
“I hate to break this up, but I have no less than four major publications and three national television programs wanting a quick word with our champion,” his PR guru, Aunt Morgan, said as she stepped into the family circle with her husband, Miles Davies.
“Let’s do it. I’ll see y’all after I come from behind and win the bull riding championship,” Porter told his family. He received one more round of hugs before Aunt Morgan dragged him off while Stella shoved another protein bar in his hand.
The interviews had been brief as they knew Porter needed time to focus before the bull riding began. Porter now sat in third place of the world rankings. It would be hard to win, but the race was close. Bull riding was entirely different from bronco, but there were some similarities. Both were eight seconds, both animals were judged on their bucking, riders in both used a rope to hold onto, both animals were five feet or taller, but spurring was a bonus and not a necessity like in bronco. In fact, it was used more for gripping the bull than to spur him on. The differences were more pronounced. Porter sat upright on the bull whereas on the bronco he was reclined. He also caved to Jace’s pressure and wore a helmet with a face shield when bull riding. The biggest difference was how the bull acted. They bucked slowly compared to the whiplash fast bucks of the horses. However, the bulls had more power and aggression behind each buck. They also bucked side-to-side, spun, and twisted where horses’ movements were more up and down.
Porter was on deck as he watched the second-ranked cowboy go. He had a good ride, but Porter moved up to the chute knowing the door had opened. He could easily move up to second with this ride. The championship was closer than ever.
Porter’s focus sharpened as he tapped his helmet against his chaps three times before securing it to his head. He was riding a bull named Outlawed Wreck and it wasn’t going to be an easy ride as Outlawed Wreck was in line to win his own bovine world championship.
Everything faded away as Porter climbed the chute and positioned himself just behind the 2000 pound bull’s shoulders. He gripped the bull rope and found his rhythm breathing with the bull. He felt Outlawed Wreck‘s sides expand as the bull breathed in deeply and they were off.
The gate was flung open. Outlawed Wreck jumped, twisted, and bucked. Porter held on as Outlawed Wreck spun so fast Porter was almost tossed off the side. This was his chance. The bull was powerful and would be scored high. If he wanted that championship . . . Porter raised his knees up and down, running the spurs along Outlawed Wreck’s shoulders for extra points.
The horn sounded and only when it broke through his concentration did Porter hear the crowd roaring. He knew he’d just won the world championship in bull riding, too. He let out a whoop as he moved to dismount Outlawed Wreck.
Outlawed Wreck wasn’t having it, though. He spun so fast that Porter didn’t have time to counteract the force. He was flung off the bull as if he were nothing more than a rag doll. Porter knew he was airborne but he hadn’t realized the metal railing was so close until his head collided with it. He felt it from the helmet down to his toes as his spine compressed with the hit. He landed hard on the dirt floor of the arena as all instincts to survive kicked in. He reached for the railing to pull himself up, but Outlawed Wreck wasn’t done with him yet. Two thousand pounds of angry bull slammed into him with a bone-breaking kick.
The workers in the ring swarmed the area yelling to get Outlawed Wreck’s attention away from Porter. Porter had managed to pull himself up to sitting when hands grabbed him and dragged him up and over the railing seconds before Outlawed Wreck had a chance to land another blow.
Jace’s blurry face came into view as Porter struggled to breathe. “Patch. Me. Up. Doc. Have. To. Get. My. Championship,” Porter said each word between gasps for air.
“You have a concussion at the very least and probably a collapsed lung. I’ll have your brother accept it for you. We need to get you to the hospital now,” Jace said as he took off Porter’s helmet.
“I’m. Fine.” Porter struggled to stand as orthopedic doctors swarmed him.
“No, you’re not,” Jace said with more force than he ever had before.
Everything was blurry, his head was killing him, and he was struggling to breathe. Porter knew he wasn’t fine, but he would be. He always recovered. The concussions, the broken arm, the fractured clavicle, the pulled muscles, the torn ACL . . . They all healed or at least he’d managed. He’d manage this, too.
The crowd gasped and Porter tried to see the jumbo screen, but it was too blurry to read. “What. Sousa’s. Time?” Sousa, the Brazilian rider, was the current number one and was in the arena now.
“7.89 seconds,” Jace said matter-of-factly. “Hospital, now!”
“Won. I won.” Porter grinned through the pain and the shortness of breath.
“With a giant score of 94.2, Porter Davies is a double world champion!” the announcer yelled right as Porter’s family ran toward him.
Their faces were blurry and moving. Porter would have recognized the worry in them, but he couldn’t see straight. Instead he reached for his brother. “Take me out there to get my trophy.”
“Bro, you need to go to the hospital.”
Porter shook his head, which only made it hurt more. “After.”
Parker looked to Jace who was probably about to hogtie Porter and drag him to the hospital, but finally Porter felt his father and his brother slide their arms around him. “One wave of the hat and then the hospital,” his father ordered as he set Porter’s cowboy hat on his head. It didn’t matter that Porter was closing in on thirty. When his father used that tone there was no arguing. “Get an ambulance backed up here and ready.”
Porter didn’t know how he made it to the center of the arena where the awards ceremony was set up. They took one look at him and skipped the second- and third-place winners and awarded Porter his two world championships. Parker took one and held it up and his father took the other. Porter heard the cheers of the audience as he removed his hat. He only got one wave out before his father and brother practically ran from the arena with him sandwiched between him.
“See. I’m fine.” Porter managed to stand on his own as he got ready to get into the ambulance. He shot his cousin a cocky grin before everything went black.
2
Keeneston, Kentucky . . .
“You shouldn’t be riding,” Jace called out over the fence. “It’s only been two weeks since you were discharged.”
Porter reined in the barrel racing horse he was training for the top women’s barrel racer and trotted over to the fence. “I’m fine, Jace. My chest is a little sore, bu
t I’m used to some degree of pain.”
“How’s your vision?” Jace asked, looking up at him.
“Back to normal. I mean, there are two of you, right?” Porter tried to tease, although Jace didn’t laugh.
“Put up the horse. Let me examine you, Porter.”
Jace wasn’t in a joking mood and Porter knew why. It hadn’t just been a concussion. There had also been a spinal fracture. It was healing well, but it was still there. Porter was slow to dismount. He might be injured and was pushing himself, but he was also trying to be careful, at least somewhat careful.
Jace opened the gate and motioned for Porter to take a seat on the bench outside the barn. “At least you’re wearing your brace,” Jace muttered as Porter unbuttoned his flannel shirt. The bruises from the bull’s hooves were still visible along his chest. The vest and helmet had saved his life.
Jace pulled out his stethoscope and listened to Porter’s lungs and heart. He did a full neurological exam after that. His face was set in a frown as he put his equipment back into his medical bag.
“See, I’m fine,” Porter said, trying to get Jace to lighten up. Cowboys came back from way worse injuries than this.
“You’re healing well. It’s actually quite remarkable for how badly you’ve been injured. But, as I told you, one more major injury and you’d be done. Porter, you’re done,” Jace said the words, but Porter didn’t process them.
Forever Thrown: Forever Bluegrass #16 Page 1